Looking down upon them, it was
impossible to distinguish their faces, but two among them, at least,
carried firearms. Mason stepped up on to the ore-dump where he could
see better, and watched their movements closely.
"Hi, there!" he called, his voice harsh and strident. "You fellers are
not invited to this picnic, an' there'll be somethin' doin' if you push
along any higher."
The little bunch halted instantly just without the edge of the heavy
timber, turning their faces up toward the speaker. Evidently they
expected to be hailed, but not quite so soon.
"Now, see here, Buck," answered one, taking a single step ahead of the
others, and hollowing his hand as a trumpet to speak through, "it don't
look to us fellers as if this affair was any of your funeral, nohow,
and we 've come 'long ahead of the others just on purpose to give you a
fair show to pull out of it afore the real trouble begins. _Sabe_?"
"Is thet so?"
The little marshal was too far away for them to perceive how his teeth
set beneath the bristly mustache.
"You bet! The boys don't consider thet it's hardly the square deal
your takin' up agin 'em in this way.
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